


Drako's FFXIVWrite 2020

by Drakochan



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 06:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakochan/pseuds/Drakochan
Summary: A compilation of all my pieces for the 2020 FFXIV Write event as organized by Sea-Wolf-Coast-to-Coast on tumblr. Chapters will be for daily prompts and so will feature various characters and situations per the prompts!Some characters belong to others, but I'll only tag if they want me to.
Relationships: E'kayah Arleut (Original Character)/Ka'najm Tia (Original Character), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light/Male Original Character, M'saanra Tia (Original Character)/V'lhani Badil (Original Character)
Kudos: 5
Collections: Final Fantasy Write Prompt Challenge 2020





	1. 01 Crux

There was a wet pop as he put pressure on the arm in his grip, the sound of a joint about to snap out of place. Naoh'sae leaned in almost against his victim's temple, but he wasn't too keen on touching with the slick sheen of sweat on his brow. 

"See, that's the issue we've got here… Your debts are past due." His voice was low and velvety, a distinct contrast to his rough grip where he'd twisted the fellow's arm up behind his back. "And it's my job to collect. The crux of it is… Well, if I don't bring money back to my boss, I don't get paid." A bit of embellished truth. He would get paid one way or the other. But he would be paid significantly better if he actually collected. "And if I don't get paid I don't eat. I get cranky if I can't eat."

"I don't have that kinda gil on me right now," the man whimpered as his iron grip tightened and he twisted a little more… "But I can get it to you! Tomorrow, my word on the Twelve!" 

"Hm… see that doesn't work for me. How about we go together where you got your gil and we got a deal?" 

"To hell with you…" 

"Ah… well that's a damn shame." He swung his elbow fast and knocked the side of the man's head and twisted so he felt the shoulder pop out of its socket. The man gave a shrill noise of pain but his expression was impassive as Naoh'sae shoved him away. “Tomorrow then. You better have his money then, or I’ll do worse than that.” A nod towards his shoulder, then the miqo’te grinned wide, showing sharp teeth, and sauntered off, tail twitching. He loved his job.


	2. 02 Sway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a long, hard fought battle to save Norvrandt. Now it's time to celebrate, but the Warrior of Darkness is weary, and eager to be with his lovers. 
> 
> Featuring Maruk Zaar who belongs to my dear friend.

Despite the circumstances that had led to them being here, and all the trials and tribulations that had occurred during their travels here in Norvrandt, Falxian would have had it no other way, as the cheerful music of the celebration washed over them, the stars glittering above as a reminder of everything they’d accomplished after so long. 

He leaned heavily on Maruk’s arm, feeling himself sway where he stood, bone tired but not wanting to miss a moment. The arm around his shoulders moved up to tweak his ear gently. “You should sleep, kitten. You’ve done a lot this day.” 

“I don’t want to miss it…” he protested weakly, feeling his eyes heavy and his weight leaning hard against his lover’s arm. “We have to make sure he isn’t alone tonight, too,” Falxian added, peering across the square where the beloved Crystal Exarch stood, surrounded by adoring citizens of the Crystarium. Maruk only hummed an affirmation, but didn’t press the matter again, for now. 

They all needed rest, if they were being truthful, but the joy of the people was infectious. The last time he’d felt like this had been standing on the walls of Ala Mhigo and hearing the anthem of his people ringing out across the sky. But this was G’raha’s moment, and he wasn’t about to drag him off. 

Though it seemed Falxian was not the only one swaying on his feet, and were it not for the swift action of Lyna, the Exarch might have tumbled ungracefully to the floor himself. Her wide-eyed gaze sought out Falxian in the crowd, and he patted Maruk’s arm as he gently detached himself, winding over with ease for few wanted to block the path of the Warrior of Darkness. 

“I dunno about you but I’m dead tired,” he said with a grin at the red-haired miqo’te and an offered hand. “Shall we retire, Exarch?”

To his credit, G’raha didn’t blush and stammer, but his eyes widened for a moment, gorgeous, bright scarlet. But it took him little time to excuse himself and he took the offered grip, and Falxian laced their fingers together, lifting G’raha’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it. Finally, he got the reaction he’d been seeking, and a flush crept just barely into his cheekbones.

“Falxian, I shouldn’t just… leave.”

“You and I both fought hard. We’ve earned a rest. And if the exuberance of the party thus far is any indication, we’ll be able to rejoin them in the morning. Seems they’re still going strong.” The night sky glittered with stars. “I’d like to go look at them with you again… See what’s different in this sky.”

“I’ll teach you the constellations,” G’raha offered with a small smile, and looked up at Maruk as a hand took his on the other side.

“Well then… I shall bid you all good morrow,” Maruk said to the small gaggle of casters that were trying to poke at his egis. 

They took the winding path through the revelry that packed every corner of the city, and eventually to the private chambers within the tower itself, an ambient glow seeming to come from it, the crystal of G’raha’s chest and arm almost responding in kind, as if there was a pulse to the place. 

“Raha…” Fal mumbled as they crawled into bed, a tangled mess of limbs and tails. “Good night. I will see you tomorrow either way,” he added, thoughtful. “And… T’is good to have you back.”


	3. 03 Muster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finally fighting and recovering Jinguk from the Garleans, Minseung takes his place as king, but suddenly it's the last thing in the world he can face. Now that they are home, his friends are the only steady thing left in his world.
> 
> [Jinguk is a Korean-coded country created by myself and in collaboration with a few others to fill a spot we felt was sorely needed in the FFXIV universe on Hydaelyn. I'm always happy to talk more about it so please feel free to ask!]

Their journey had not been easy. It had been a struggle, since they first made their escape from Jonryang to sailing across the vast ocean, refugees like so many, cramped into a tiny ship hold. They’d sold most of their valuables to get out of the country, and lived simple lives together in Ul’dah, their lodging barely fit for people, but the three of them had made it work. Sweat, blood, tears, and hard work, to save up and find themselves a livable place that wasn’t a veritable closet. 

Hyung had fought as a gladiator, making less than he deserved, and Insu did what he could in turn, plying patronage for his skills in magic. Minseung had taken odd jobs and countless tasks of menial labor over the months that the court would have balked at imagining him doing. They had found their way, somehow. The unexpected friendship of the fellow refugee, though she came from a neighboring land, Ayame’s bold and fearless friendship and endless stomach. Then Kwan had come, unexpected camaraderie turned sour by a betrayal of trust, but that revelation had come in the wake of him saving them from another that had been sent with the same purpose; to kill him and ensure he would not return to Jinguk. 

Minseung stared at the gathered group before him, resplendent in their regalia for this event, and couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride, for all of them. What they had was not necessarily what the court would want of him… But he was happy with his friends, his family, by his side. He loved them all, in their own ways. 

But even that did not ease the flutter of fear in his stomach, and he was quite literally weighed down by the ornate robes that graced his form, elaborate folds and wrapped around him just so, adorned with flawless embroidery and beadwork, ceremonial and performative. He had gotten so used to the simple companionship, and now that they were not allowed at his side for propriety’s sake…

It was all he could do to muster the courage to step through those doors, the gathered faces before him making him falter for a moment. But he glanced over his shoulder, and their smiling faces gave him the strength he needed to take those last few steps, so he could be named ruler in truth, taking the position they’d fought so hard for him to regain. 

It was all worth it.


	4. 04 Clinch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ka'najm and E'kayah seldom have a moment to themselves, so they're taking advantage of it. 
> 
> Ka'najm is a lovely friend's OC

Well, this had become complicated… Their travels together over the past months had been trying, enough to drive apart even the closest of friends, fighting the likes of primals and tailed at every turn by the hostile eyes of the Empire. And yet… It was never that peril that made his stomach twist, that made his head swim with the force of his feelings, clinching around his throat and making him unable to speak. 

The gentle rise and fall of Ka’najm’s back meant he was still deep in sleep, and E’kayah couldn’t help but reach out, fingertips drawing lines between the smattering of freckles like stars across his lover’s skin to form constellations he had yet to name. It was warm, always warm here in Thanalan, though the bay’s breeze often kept it tolerable, but it meant often they went without blankets. He wouldn’t complain, admiring the strong muscles that lay relaxed now but he was all too aware of the strength in them, having felt it, but more often seen it in action. A graceful, deadly dance of Ka’najm’s knives and the flash of steel and a smile. The Waking Sands had become almost a second home, though it was merely a stopover on their way to Mor Dhona but he was in no hurry to leave. For now to allow those that had been captured by the Garleans had time to recover, or at least let their wounds be healed.

Moving on from the pale freckles across his skin, his fingertips traced a scar that was more recent, pale on Ka’najm’s skin, his heart aching that it was in this endeavor that he’d gotten it… His life would not be much safer on his own though, E’kayah supposed, after their misadventures together he’d learned that much. The touch moved to another scar, but this time he leaned close to press a kiss to it in turn, and the twitch of Ka’najm’s ears revealed that had been enough to wake him. 

“Kayah…” the soft murmur of his name prompted a rumble of a purr to start in his chest, and E’kayah happily shifted to steal a kiss, his lover shifting to wrap an arm around him. The duties of the Warrior of Light were quickly forgotten in moments like this. Quiet, wrapped in the warmth of strong arms, the curl of Ka’najm’s tail around his leg a plea to stay with him a little longer, one he was all too happy to oblige. The kiss deepened, a nip of teeth then the unspoken request of tongue, a soft moan but he wasn’t sure anymore if it was his own or Ka’najm. 

He was loath to break the kiss, but he wanted more to trail down the column of his lover’s throat, sucking a mark against his pulse to hear the soft moan in his ear, a wicked grin as he kissed and nipped further, down across the starscape of freckles along Ka’najm’s chest. Fingers carded into his hair, closing into a fist, tugging pleasantly. 

E’kayah’s breath tickled across skin, gratified by the faint shiver he felt of the body below his, kissing a line down his lover’s chest, lavishing attention on a nipple before drifting lower, lower. He was glad they hadn’t bothered putting clothes back on as he nipped at the lean stomach, down the hip to trace the line of it with his tongue, nipping at the soft flesh and relishing the way he could make his lover squirm, fingers tangling in his hair and breathy moans spilling filthy from his lips.

“Stop teasing and suck my cock already,” Ka’najm growled, low and without too much force behind it. E’kayah grinned wide, against Ka’najm’s thigh so he was sure to feel it, pressing one last kiss there, then moving on to where his path had promised. His tongue traced a line up Ka’najm’s shaft, tasting the already leaking tip with a teasing lap. 

“So eager already,” E’kayah purred with a smirk, but he was just as eager for hearing those delightful sounds his lover made lost in passion, and his lips closed over him and started to move, not shy at all and mindful of his teeth as he urged more of those lovely sounds. Groans and moans that occasionally peppered in his name. What a lovely sight this was, peering up at Ka’najm from his current position. He would be happy to suck his lover to completion, but the sound of a link pearl message incoming beeped just to the side of the bed, and he groaned. 

“Ignore it,” the other miqo’te nearly snarled, but the fierce effect was slightly undermined by his breathy tone, needy and wanton and Twelve he was gorgeous like this.

The tone stopped, and he could focus once more on the task at hand as he took Ka’najm to the base suddenly, a low purr rumbling through him and no doubt feeling quite nice. But then it sounded again, and he eased himself back, coughing quietly as he tried to clear his own throat. He peppered a few kisses up Ka’najm’s form again, but reached over to snatch the link pearl before it could go again.

“Oh, good E’kayah. You’re awake.” Minfilia’s voice was chipper as ever, and he mumbled something about rubbish holidays. “I was afraid I might meet you but I supposed you might still be in bed, with the odd hours you keep. Regardless… We need to get something back that has fallen into enemy hands. Pray return to the Waking Sands and we can discuss in detail.”

E’kayah made a soft grunt that meant yes, he’d be there, but he groaned. “She has the worst timing…” Ka’najm laughed, but he was obviously a little miffed as well. E’kayah nipped and marked the other side of Ka'najm's throat, then stood, peering around the room that was clearly intended for less. "But she could wait another fifteen minutes for us to finish here,” he said with a sigh. “Then I suppose I shall fulfill my Warrior of Light duties after all.”


	5. 05 Matter of Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some losses are harder than others. Having to be the one to tell his friend that Haurchefant is gone is the last thing he expected to have to do a Warrior of Light.

He was gone, that was the long and short of it. Falxian wouldn’t harp on it, wouldn’t shove it aside either. The fury that stirred in his belly was a new feeling, though… Sure, they’d lost people, and he’d hurt for it. But Haurchefant was the first time it had really hit so hard. Holding his hand as the strength spilled from it, and tears from his own eyes.

But he’d said a smile better suits a hero, and so Falxian had smiled, for him, one last time. There was nothing they could do, even with what healing magic they had amongst them. It wasn’t enough, something about the wound seemed to resist it. 

Haurchefant’s last words had been for A’vett though, and he stood in front of the bard now, unable to meet his eyes, feeling his own well over. His voice cracked as he recounted it, but he didn’t collapse into sobs. They’d all loved him, in their own ways… They’d all held him dear. But A’vett…

He blinked back the tears, and glanced up at A’vett, who was standing in stunned silence before him, the lavish room feeling a hundred malms away somehow despite them standing in the middle of it. 

“He can’t be gone,” A’vett said quietly, ears flattening against his head, tail still behind him as his gaze searched Falxian’s face for something, _anything_ that would tell him this wasn’t true, that it was just a jest of some kind. His hands took Fal’s, voice shaking. “Please Fal, say he’s not gone.”

“Haurchefant is dead,” he said, feeling flat and harsh, the matter of fact tone as he said it twisting his own guts. A’vett collapsed against him, denial uttered in shaking breath against his chest as Falxian held him close, feeling his own sobs renew in the face of his friend’s grief. How long they sat on the floor of the fine room in the Fortemps house he was not sure. The world had shifted. Another good man lost because of the power the Ascians had whispered into another susceptible ear, and a hurt that would never truly be healed inflicted on a dear friend… 

As he held A’vett’s shaking form, that grief hardened into anger.


	6. 06 A Coming Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celestaux Lazaresco is a knight of the Holy See, but oft he questions the very teachings.

The wind was bitter cold over the ramparts of Dragon Head, and Celestaux could do nothing but pull his cloak tighter around his shoulders, his armor seeming to soak the cold in and hold it, only staved off barely by the thick layers of furs and woolen padding. The stars were clear tonight, though for how long he couldn’t say, the wall of grey-black clouds looming over Ishgard promising a long, wet night ahead. Standing guard duty in such weather, even the thickest of cloaks couldn’t entirely stave off the chill. At least it wouldn’t melt and wet his clothing, he supposed, a wry smile behind the mask that protected his nose and mouth, his eyes the only exposed part of him where he kept watch, eyeing a creature that had been lurking near the mouth of Witchdrop since early in his post. It seemed content to watch, though, perched on a rock and hunched over against the cold wind that cut like a dagger.

Perhaps it had been someone’s lover, accused of wrongdoing in the Church’s eyes. It had never sat well with him, this practice. If one was guilty, they would fly away, and be struck down by the swords and arrows of the Inquisition, and if they were innocent, they became yet another corpse at the bottom of the ravine. And yet in all his years, not one had flown away. They all perished, broken and battered against the rocks below. 

Horrible, is what it was… The voidsent shifted, looking up, and for a moment he could swear they met eyes. He was the first to flinch, looking away out over the rolling snowbanks. 

How much snow would they be getting this time, he wondered, trying to cast the image of those sorrowful eyes from his mind.


	7. 07 Nonagenarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior of Light fell to the Empire, but G'raha is determined to find a way to fix that.

He’d read through the journal a hundred times already, but it never stopped making his heart ache as it had the first time. Love lived on every page, in every letter. And always his name, again and again. There was so much hope, so much surety that one day he would hold this very journal and see the words written for him, whether it was a hundred years or more. His inspiration… And yet it seemed more like G’raha had been Falxian’s inspiration in the end.

The song he’d promised had been written, though it fell from few lips now, after the world had been so ravaged by Black Rose, and the light of Hydaelyn’s warriors had been snuffed out so well. He looked over the pages of research, brows creased. The answer was here somewhere. In the walls of this tower, in its very heart… The power to save everything, everyone… The power to save Falxian most of all. 

“Have you made any progress?” G’raha startled from his focus, turning to face the door. Maruk’s voice was quiet with age, something that never failed to make his chest tight, the auri’s magics to extend his life nowhere near as effective as the tower was at keeping him young, nearly as spry as he’d been when he had first closed those doors. 

“No big breakthroughs, but I think we’re on the right path. We’ll figure this out. There has to be some way to change it. We can’t let this world fade.”

Maruk nodded in satisfaction, settling into the armchair that had become his de-facto place in the tower research room, the light of the crystal seeming to highlight every line, but most of all the weariness in his eyes. “You sound an old man, and I'm only ninety-three saying that,” Maruk teased with a grin of sharp teeth, leaning forward in his chair. “Lots of years to go for you yet. Show this old man what you can do.”

G’raha laughed, despite himself, ears lowering. “Come now… We’ve time enough to save him yet.” But there was that quiet moment after they spoke, filled with unspoken memories of the bright eyed, vibrant man they’d both loved. G’raha’s fingers brushed over the journal again. “I should stop wool-gathering and actually get to work.”

“He spoke of you often, even in the end.” Maruk murmured, fingers steepled in his lap. “Insisted on visiting the tower for your nameday and Starlight every year.” 

G’raha could only nod, the lump in his throat keeping him from speaking, and he picked up the journal again. “I was just reading of your travels in Azys Lla again. Nary a page between him speaking of how I’d have loved to see it.” His ears perked up, and he moved over to the chair, a hand on Maruk’s shoulder. “It’s not over. We can do this, we’ll save him. We’ll save them all.”

“Forgive an old man his sentiments,” Maruk said with a soft smile, but rested his hand atop G’raha’s.


	8. 08 Clamor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clamor of the battlefield and the clamor of celebration afterwards.

Battlefields were the same no matter where you were. The cries and shouts were all in different tongues, of course, but they were all the same things. Cries for courage, cries for help, cries in agony of the fallen. It was a certain kind of talent to be able to block all that out, one Falxian had never quite mastered. As they ran he glanced to make sure that Maruk was still at his side, and he flashed a grin, then dived into the next cluster of Imperial soldiers, a renewed vigor as he cried a wordless battle cry and his rapier sliced gracefully through the air. 

“Fal, your right,” Maruk shouted, and a blast of fire from his egi soared over Falxian’s shoulder as he whirled and tossed a spell of his own that blew the soldier back off his feet, allowing for a quick cast of Fire to set him alight in turn. As they moved together, a graceful dance across the battlefield, Falxian couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It was too loud for talk, the clamor of weapons and voices alike drowning out all but the other cries. 

As the last of the soldiers were felled or subdued, he twirled his sword habitually, and returned it to his side, glancing over at Maruk, and the weight of the battle finally caught up to him, suddenly his legs and arms feeling like weights. Something about the racket of battle always seemed to make it so far away. But they’d be getting back to camp to another kind of clamor, that of joyous voices and singing, the song of his homeland from some drunken soldiers that were celebrating their victory.

Maruk moved to his side and he looped an arm gratefully around the au ra, nuzzling against his shoulder around the armor he wore. “Exhausted,” he muttered, and let his tail twine with Maruk’s as they strode back towards their camp. Already the sound of victory came over the walls of the reclaimed imperial base at Baelsar’s wall, and Falxian joined in with the anthem as its chords rang into the clear evening air. 

“Do you want to celebrate with your countrymen?” Maruk asked as they came to a stop, tucking a strand of Falxian’s hair back behind his ear affectionately, then laughed at Fal’s emphatic head shake.

“No… Twelve knows I should be getting rest. All I want is a drink, a hot meal, and you for dessert,” he purred with a wink, though they both knew that mostly that meant he would be eating, drinking, and then sleeping as soon as he was able. They’d be lucky to have more than a few exhausted kisses before they were both tangled together in sleep. 

The energy that came with having the Warrior of Light in camp was always infectious, and it seemed the men and women around them were only set on celebrating all the harder. A few teasing scolds from Raubahn ensured that most would be prudent and refrain from drinking to excess, but that wasn’t Falxian’s problem, as he dragged Maruk towards their tent, a sturdy structure that belied its name, a comfortable cot big enough for both of them along with their belongings safely tucked into chocobo saddlebags at the foot of the bed. They really did know how to treat a man, even on the battlefield, Falxian mused as they crawled into the wide cot, his legs tangling with Maruk’s. Still the celebration went on outside, but it was a pleasant sort of noise now. The joyful noise of celebration a far more pleasant racket as Falxian stole a kiss just before tucking himself into the crook of Maruk’s shoulder to drift off quickly into an exhausted sleep.


	9. 09 Lush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V'lhani and M'saanra take a brief vacation to the coast of La Noscea for some sightseeing.

V’lhani had seen every corner of the vast plateaus and canyons of Ala Mhigo as a conscript, and the stark metallic halls of Imperial bases, but never before had he seen so much green in one place. They’d come to Costa del Sol as a sort of vacation, a break in his strenuous path to recovery after what had happened to him under the hands of Garlean scientists, and he’d been more or less ordered to take time off. 

So here they were, feet in the sand, as Lhani’s ears perked up, attention caught by the flutter of a bird as it veered around towards the greenest growth he’d ever seen. Even in the little oasis spots across the rocky terrain in Ala Mhigo, he’d never seen so much greenery, lush and verdant and calling to something in him to come look closer. 

He grinned, a flash of sharp teeth as his hand grasped M’saanra’s where the other miqo’te strode beside him, dragging them both up the sandy beach and to the dirt paths that wound across the coastline. They were near Wineport, from what he’d heard, as well… Maybe they could snatch a bottle to share later over dinner. 

“Where are we…?” Saanra asked, bewildered by the sudden burst of energy from his companion if his tone was any indication. Lhani brushed his feet off in the grass, then pulled his sandals back on, urging M’saanra to do the same. 

“I want to see the trees a little closer.”

“You know there’s… all manner of vilekin in the forest, right?” 

“I’ve nothing to worry about then, so long as you’re with me.” There was a spark, a flash of something that seemed long gone suddenly in his gaze, and M’saanra clearly saw it as well, a grin lighting his features in turn. 

“Alright, alright… But when you’re whining about itching over some poisonous plant you brushed against or the insect bites, I’ll have no sympathy for you.”

“We can stop in Wineport if we catch the ferry across the river…” Lhani needled with a grin.

“No sympathy,” Saanra repeated, but held his arm out for Lhani to loop an arm in as they started to walk. The birdcalls were like nothing Lhani had ever heard, exotic and exciting. 

The ferry ride was far longer than he’d expected, but it was worth it as they disembarked, the trees looming high, high above them, shadowing the forest floor. The humidity alone was muggy and unpleasant on his skin, but the excitement of seeing new places overrode that immediately as he scampered off the docks, and up a small hill to peer deep into the shaded part of the jungle. 

“Here, if we follow this road, we’ll be at Wineport. Come on…” He tugged at Saanra’s hand and they were quickly on their way. A small adventure, nothing like the ones they’d dreamed up as boys, but it was enough for Lhani that they were together again… After everything, a simple trek into new sights with Saanra at his side was more than he could ever have asked for.


End file.
